She finishes padding out some makeup under his eye. Napolitano stands, signaling her to pack up.

He smiles thanks as she finishes putting her things into a case.

He sees her to the door and leans out after her to address Liza.

He closes the door and returns to his seat, where he opens his top right drawer as far it will go, lifts it to unlock it from its track, and removes it from the desk. A folded document is taped onto the outside of the back of the drawer. He carefully peels off the paper and puts the drawer back into the desk.

He unfolds the document. It’s a copy he’s made of the methane map -- the old land survey of a section of Wilshire Blvd. He studies it for a moment, his eyes coming to rest on --

THE TITLE BLOCK

In the corner of the page is a block of information about the survey, mostly in small print.
The resolution is bad, but he can still make out the name of the county surveyor and other workers involved, the date the survey was taken, Sept., 1926, and various filing codes.

NAPOLITANO

He folds the copy and puts it in his jacket pocket, then leans back, puts his feet on his desk and, for the first time in days, relaxes, deep in thought.